


And The Stars Sing Hallelujah

by Laqueus



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Illness, M/M, a line so I ain't tagging that, a.k.a. A look at Kaito during his time at the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, also there's some mild Shuichi/Kaito/Maki, but it's only like, what's better than this just guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laqueus/pseuds/Laqueus
Summary: Love was easy, love was fast, and Kaito figured that those were the unwritten rules that all his relationships would follow.Little did he know just how wrong he would be.





	And The Stars Sing Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Whilst I have done my best to be accurate with the space facts, space is not my forte, so please forgive any inaccuracies and incongruities.
> 
> Cheers!

In hindsight, before sidekicks and friendship and _feelings_ , Kaito had to admit that he’d acted like a dick towards Shuichi. That was it, plain and simple; there were no other words to describe his actions after that first Class Trial.

There Shuichi had been, mired in misery, hiding within shadows and afraid to stand in the sunlight, having just watched Kaede _be fucking executed..._

And Kaito had belted him. Oh, in the white-hot heat of the moment it’d made sense, just as many things do in that instant before the brain kicks in with all its _evidence_ and _immediate effect_ and _consideration of others_. He’d been so full of pent-up frustration and anger directed all ways: at the Monokubs in their damn shining Exisals, at Monokuma for the whole ugly mess, at himself for being unable to do fuck-all at stopping them, at the entire damn class for descending into a misery circlejerk together; but most of all at Shuichi for fucking _going through with it_ , lining up all the pieces so that they correctly pointed to Kaede and pulling the trigger, then acting like a wet piece of paper. Kaito had looked at Shuichi, _moping,_ and something within him snapped; his arm was moving before he even knew what was happening.

_“You call yourself a man?!”_

And hell, Shuichi had just taken the hit quietly, not even bothering to defend himself, even after the other members of the class rose up to protect him, their tired, sullen gazes turning upon Kaito.

It was only later as he lay in bed, his temper cooling like the Earth during the Hadean eon that Kaito realised that he might have fucked up. No, he’d definitely fucked up. It was an unpleasant little revelation that dropped into his stomach and sat there, cold and heavy, a comet’s core. Once again he felt the impact of the punch ghost across his knuckles, felt the soft give of Shuichi’s flesh, and felt the bone framework of the skull hiding beneath.

“Aw, crap,” Kaito muttered. Guilt was not a familiar bedfellow.

He’d always been shit at dealing with grief. Not in himself, no, in other people. And maybe _shit_ wasn’t quite the right word, perhaps _inconsiderate_ was a better term. For Kaito, grief was just another obstacle to fight and overcome, and he dealt with it best by going out and _doing_ something. In his eyes there was no better cure for it than to throw himself into training, moving his body instead of letting all the feelings within him wallow and stagnate. Take, for example, when his first dog had died. She’d been a bright-eyed mongrel with scrubby grey fur that a four-year old Kaito had named Keiko, finding delight in the way their names had almost matched. Oh, how he’d loved her, and how she’d loved him, despite the fact that he’d used the wrong kanji for her name and had ended up with the meaning of ‘silicon child’. But then again, dogs were incredibly forgiving creatures, especially when it came to children. They’d had no end of adventures together, both real and imagined, the young Kaito drawing endless pictures of him and Keiko flying through various scribbled expanses of blue space in primary-colour spaceships, both of them wearing lumpy white spacesuits. When Keiko had met her unfortunate end under a car at age twelve, whilst other kids might have cried their eyes out, the ten year-old Kaito had instead taken off, ran two miles and had promptly gotten lost.

The entire escapade had ended with him escorted home by a policeman.

“Kaito, why in the hell did you do that?” his grandfather had gruffly intoned. His words had been somewhat muffled at the time, since Kaito had been wrapped in a bear hug, squashed between both his grandmother and grandfather.

“I had to run!” Kaito had said, squirming at the contact, unable to better express the former feeling of liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen knocking around inside him, mixing and agitating into a potential fuel.

It’d taken him a long time to learn that, hey, different people have different ways of dealing with grief! Even now it was a fact that he had a tendency to forget, easily overridden and shoved to one side by the sheer force of passionate emotions.

Kaito groaned, facepalming in the darkness, the twin galaxies of guilt and shame twisting in his gut. _He’d done it again_. He’d gone ahead and forgotten. And holy shit, he’d really cocked it up this time; Shuichi seemed like a fairly quiet bird outside of the Class Trial, and in the short time they’d been there, he and Kaede had been rarely seen without one another. Who knew how the guy must be feeling at that moment?

In that moment, Kaito made up his mind. First thing in the morning he’d go over to Shuichi’s and apologise to him. He’d make it right. In fact, he’d go one better; Shuichi would probably quietly absorb any apology, and it’d be a fragile, transient thing with no long-lasting effect. What Shuichi needed, Kaito reckoned, was a pillar to lean against until he’d gotten the confidence to stand on his own.

Kaito nodded to himself in the darkness. Then it was settled. He’d make Shuichi his sidekick, and he, Kaito, would be the guy’s booster rockets, carrying him away until BECO, until Shuichi had the courage to rocket away on his own.

\----------

 So. Shuichi Saihara. To Kaito’s discovery and surprise, in many ways the guy was like Kaito’s antithesis. Whereas Kaito stuck out with his purple, galaxy-patterned clothing, worn in a slapdash manner, Shuichi blended into the shadows with his neat, dark uniform, not a stitch out of place. Whereas Kaito had a tendency to shout and bellow, getting fired up, Shuichi spoke softly, thoughtfully, prone to peppering his speech with soft filler exclamations. Whereas Kaito was open and headstrong, brazenly charging forward to take action immediately, Shuichi was reserved, quietly gathering evidence and assessing the situation before choosing a course of action. And whereas Kaito was brimming with confidence, overflowing and radiating it like heat from the sun, Shuichi was prone to doubt, shrinking in on himself as the feeling corroded his conviction.

All in all Kaito reckoned that Shuichi was like the night sky; to the uninitiated he was easily overlooked and taken for granted, appearing like a flat plain or painting. But to those who loved the sky enough to actually take a proper look, staring up with their eyes and telescopes, ah, then the truth was revealed! There was so much depth, and so many wonders held within his inky expanse!

Oh, but where Shuichi truly shined, like a star going supernova, was during the Class Trials. In those moments he stood tall, iron fortifying his bones, a quiet confidence encircling him like the rings of Saturn as he methodically fought to find the truth and save the innocent.

In those moments Kaito could almost see the person Shuichi would become in his adulthood, overlaying him like the ghost of a hologram. A world-class detective, with a sharp mind and quick words, ready to find the truth, switching between clinical and considerate when the matter called for it. Oh, Shuichi would be a star, he would be Vega, he would be Canopus, and the thought of it filled Kaito with a warm, sweet pride that threated to overflow its vessel.

‘ _Look!’_ he wanted to bellow at the class, ‘ _look at Shuichi! Look at how far he’s come! Look how he’s grown, and look at how he’ll continue to grow, like a zinnia in zero-g! Guiding you all like Polaris on a dark night!’_

Kaito had even heard it said that Shuichi’s mind was like a steel trap. He couldn’t remember who it was exactly that’d said it, his memory choosing to fail him for such an insignificant detail, only that it’d been said in the breakfast after a Class Trial. But man, it didn’t sit right with him. After all, when you got right down to it, steel traps just snapped shut on the first thing that set them off, yeah? And unless you had the correct key or knew how to work the mechanism, then that was it, you were stuck. There’d be no opening of the trap, and it’d be as stiff and unyielding as cold iron. When the metaphor was applied to Shuichi, well, it’d be like him seeing a crime scene and immediately jumping to the first conclusion that it presented and then ignoring all subsequent evidence and testimony. Which was entirely wrong.

Nah, if anything, Kaito figured that Shuichi’s mind was more like an ice cream maker. Lots of different elements would go in, they’d all mix and stew for a while, and then something new would come out.

“An ice cream maker,” Shuichi had said, when Kaito voiced this opinion to him. “That’s, ah, an unusual way of interpreting it, I guess.”

“What?” Kaito had said, incredulously. “It’s perfect!”

He’d grinned widely at Shuichi, a steady warmth filling his chest. Shuichi had shook his head, laughing, the sound being one-part humour, one-part disbelief, and the heat within Kaito had overflowed, spreading right to the tips of his fingers and ears.

Together they were like day and night, the Moon and the Sun, quietly existing in tandem and revolving together without even realising the full extent of it.

\----------

For Kaito, getting crushes and falling in love was always such a straightforward, simple affair, one that felt as natural and automatic as sweating after a good workout. Perhaps his mind was so full of space and its secrets – slow-burning stars, and vast, twisting nebulae, and planets where diamonds and metal rained down from the sky – that there was little room for aught else, and it never occurred to him that things should be more complex. In his honest opinion he reckoned that when it came to romance, everyone made things difficult for no good reason, starting and stalling like a rocket with an insufficient amount of fuel, as they slowly danced around one another like a pair of asteroids stuck in one another’s gravitational orbit. If your heart had gone to all that trouble of producing a fine batch of feelings that now sloshed around inside it, then what was the point of keeping them all bottled up and hidden like they were something shameful? How unmanly!

Kaito had fancied loads of people throughout his life, and it was almost a point of pride for him: the girl who’d worked in the 7-11 around the corner from his house, a boy he’d met whilst at an onsen with his grandparents, the person he’d sat next to on the train and shared comics with every day for a year during middle school, along with a whole galaxy’s worth of classmates. They were always passionate, short affairs, as intense and bright-burning as the flame from a pair of booster rockets. It didn’t matter who they were or what they identified as – Kaito had loved them all. He found there was a certain logic to it, to his preferences, or rather, lack thereof; astronauts had to be experts in so many fields, spreading themselves and turning their hand to almost any task in order to survive in the vast expanse of space, so it made sense and seemed perfectly natural that the same sort of principles should apply to the exciting and heart-pounding world of love. Ha, imagine meeting aliens and being an ass because you were hung up on what sort of junk they did or didn’t have! Who the fuck gave a shit about what was going on down there, and why should you both deny things just because you had the sort of equipment or both identified as the same gender or whatever? It was mad.

Love was easy, love was fast, and Kaito figured that those were the unwritten rules that all his relationships would follow.

Little did he know just how wrong he would be.

\----------

Kaito wasn’t entirely sure when it exactly began, when, within the universe known as _Kaito Momota_ , the planet designated _Shuichi Saihara_ began drifting out of its normal orbit. Somehow it had broken out of the gravitational pull of the solar system that’d been designated ‘friendship’, and was on a steady, ponderous course towards a new system, one marked down on the maps and charts as ‘romance’. Though, truth be told, for a great while Kaito didn’t notice that the movement was happening at all, shielded from it by the trappings of _hero_ and _sidekick_ in the same way that the ozone layer protected the Earth from the full extent of the sun’s rays.

It was only during training one evening that the fog finally lifted from Kaito’s eyes, the solar winds blowing it away. He was on his back, gazing up at the sky, idly mapping out new constellations in his mind as he spoke. Maki had already left, quietly stalking away into the night to attend to her own business.

“-Anyway, that’s what I think,” he finished. “Whaddya think, bro?” He rolled onto one side, propping himself up on an elbow to better see Shuichi and his reaction, and-

Something within Kaito paused, growing still.

Shuichi was still doing push-ups, the movement punctuated with odd grunts of exertion. Nothing had changed since Kaito had last looked at him, during his own sit-ups that he’d ended up abandoning in favour of speculating on the universe. But-

_But._

There was a nebula within Kaito’s chest, suspended and blooming, like a droplet of ink in water. It was twisting, billowing and incandescent, glowing from the pinprick light from the stars it housed. As Kaito clapped eyes upon Shuichi, right at the centre of the nebula, at the very point where his heart would sit, the faintest ripple of turbulence occurred. The next second he felt that entire sector drop away, compressing in upon itself, gravity increasing, again and again and again, dust and gas gathering and growing, and now it was splitting off into protostars, each boiling to an unimaginable temperature, and still gravity was increasing and new material was being drawn in, and something was slowly taking shape, the entire thing growing bigger and bigger and bigger and-

The void in Kaito’s heart erupted into a star.

Despite the dark sky and dim second-hand light, it was like he was really, truly seeing Shuichi in his entirety for the first time. In that moment Kaito felt like OAO-2, humanity’s first successful pair of eyes in the sky, scanning through the ultraviolet to see the hydrogen halos of comets. Light and shadows painted a stark chiaroscuro across Shuichi; sweat was pooling at the nape of his neck, and Kaito watched as it trickled a slow path downwards. Sans jacket and with his shirtsleeves rolled up, Kaito could see the muscles in Shiuchi’s forearms moving as he exerted himself. Kaito found himself tracing the curve of Shuichi’s jaw with his eyes, admiring the soft sheen of his hair and wanting to thread his fingers through the navy locks, the same deep blue as the cosmos. Oh, but there was so much more to it than physical attributes! Shuichi’s mind was as sharp as a diamond-tipped drill bit, and despite his lack of confidence – something that was becoming less of an issue by the day - there was a quiet tenacity about him; he would dig through to the truth and do the right thing, no matter how it might make his fingers bleed. He wasn’t afraid to rib Kaito, and he was working to try and improve himself!

In addition, Kaito found that he automatically knew a whole host of quirks that made up Shuichi; stars making up a constellation. He usually slept on his left side, and every morning at breakfast would drink a glass of water, no matter what food he was having. Cats liked Shuichi, much to his surprise, approaching him on the street with their tails up, the tip curving into a friendly question mark. But despite his baffling popularity among the feline population, he’d only ever owned a couple of plants. When Shuichi was especially deep in thought, he had this way of covering his hand with his mouth, as if to prevent any stray thoughts from escaping into the air before he’d properly given them a once over, and hell, if Kaito didn’t find that the most fucking charming thing.

It was strange, when Kaito was with Shuichi, he felt somehow balanced, more willing to take things into consideration instead of blindly charging ahead. Normally, such a thing would have felt constraining, like it was something holding him back from doing the impossible. But with Shuichi, Kaito found that it felt like a safety tether, stopping him from whirling off into open space and the slow death that awaited him there. Shuichi’s quiet consideration and guidance meant it was like there was an entirely new set of planets and galaxies open to him, ones that Kaito wouldn’t have thought of himself.

Kaito was no poet, but in short: Shuichi was marvellous.

Oh. _Oh._ Realisation dropped onto Kaito like a space blanket.

Shuichi was looking at him, his push-ups halted, with an open and slightly quizzical expression on his face. An electric jolt ran through Kaito as their eyes met.

“Huh? What?” said Kaito, his own face oddly blank.

Shuichi’s brows shot up, and Kaito was seized with a desire to grab his face and kiss the spot between them.

“Were you listening to a word I was saying?” asked Shuichi.

Uh-oh, had he been speaking? Kaito rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers scrubbing against the cropped hair that grew there.

Apparently it was _out-of-character hour_ , as he found himself stammering and stumbling. “A-ah, well, of course I was!”

“Then what did I say?” Shuichi’s expression was similar to the sort that a cat might wear when it’d cornered a mouse.

Kaito waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Please, we’re hero and sidekick; your thoughts are my thoughts, remember? I already know!”

Though externally he appeared calm, internally Kaito was awhirl with thoughts. Oh fuck, oh hell, _he liked Shuichi_ , and there was an almost frightening amount of force and sheer, slow, intensity behind the emotion. Normally his feelings were rocket propellant, his feelings were an arrow shooting towards the stars. They came fast, burned bright, burned _out_. But this _thing_ he felt for Shuichi was running on a completely different timeframe; it was akin to the stars, burning slowly for millions of years, their afterimages existing for thousands more. In that context, Shuichi was UY Scuti, massive, dense, and bright, burning with such ardour, utterly dwarfing all previous relationships.

“Ha, nice try, but you’re not getting away with it that easily, Kaito! …Kaito?” said Shuichi.

With a start, Kaito was suddenly reminded that he was still taking part in the common group activity known as _a conversation_. It was surprisingly difficult to focus on it for once, especially when his mind was singing _Shuichi, Shuichi, Shuichi,_ relishing the shape of his name. Honesty bent his tongue.

“Whu-? Oh, er, shit, you got me. I zoned out and wasn’t listening. Sorry, bro.” He flashed Shuichi a sheepish, thousand-watt grin.

“Oh, come on! What was the point of asking if you were just going to zone out?” With an air of mock-outrage Shuichi gave Kaito’s shoulder a gentle push, tipping him over. The impression and sensation of his hand on Kaito’s chest remained; it was as if he’d been struck with all the force of a slap.

 _Do it again_ , sang some tiny, primal, and desperate part of Kaito’s mind. _Do it again, do it again, lay your hands on me and cover me in your fingerprints._

To which the normal, rational part of Kaito’s mind responded with: _What the fuck_.

Slightly disturbed by the tangent his brain was going on, Kaito rocketed up into a sitting position with such speed that it made his head spin.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night!” he loudly declared. With another dizzying surge, Kaito was on his feet, stumbling slightly.

Shuichi stared up at him, wide-eyed, pupils blown out in the darkness; the strange little part of Kaito’s brain almost choked at the sight.

A look of genuine concern crossed the boy’s face. “Hey, Kaito. You feeling all right? You, ah, look awfully pale.”

“Yeah, never better!” said Kaito, teeth bared, his mouth stretched into a nervous, unnatural smile. “Just tired, is all!”

And there Shiuchi’s expression dropped into a deadpan one. “What, from all the sit-ups you did?”

 _Ouch_. Gotta make a smooth, cool exit.

“Ha, I did plenty!” Kaito turned, heading to the dorms. He aimed a wave over his shoulder, calling as he did so. “Whatever, I’ll see you in the morning!”

\----------

Not for the first time, Kaito found himself lying in bed and ruminating on things; it seemed to be turning into a habit, one that was born when the Killing Game started. Unsurprising really, considering that most days brought some heavy new topic to the fore to be considered and mulled over. The brain usually needed to churn it up and vent it out sometime, and when you were trying to fall asleep with nothing to do, well, in the brain’s eyes that was as good a time as any.

Oh, but tonight’s Kaito’s mind was singing a different song. And now that he thought about it, really properly paying it the attention it was due, his mind had been singing that tune for a while; it’d started off quietly at first, and then had slowly added singers and instruments into the mix until it was a full chorus and orchestra, belting out a tune.

_Shuichi, Shuichi, Shuichi._

Memories of Shuichi flowed through Kaito’s mind, springing unbidden from a hidden source and automatically bringing a smile to his lips: Shuichi smiling; Kaito’s hand on his back in the second trial; the pair of them eating together; training together; hanging out together…

Why hadn’t he seen it before? Somehow, unknowingly, his eye had been drawn to Shuichi, and his pilot light had ignited the old, familiar embers within his heart. Under normal circumstances these feelings would have been fast and short, like a comet reaching perihelion, its coma glowing brightly, the dust tail trailing away into the stars. But for some forsaken reason, _these weren’t normal circumstances_.

Still, despite that, if he liked Shuichi then the path ahead was clear. It was an old, familiar script, one Kaito had run through many times before: make Shuichi aware of his interest, hey I like you, I am approaching you with romantic intent etc. etc. Except…

Kaito paused, his grin dropping away into the darkness.

He was supposed to be Shuichi’s booster rockets, his support, the hero to his sidekick. Something about him suddenly turning around and declaring that he had a thing for the guy felt kinda… nebulous. Like a, what was the term? A conflict of interest? Yeah, that was probably it. Plus Shuichi was so earnest and conscientious, to the point where he had the aggravating little habit of trying to shoulder everyone’s burdens and assume personal responsibility for them. A confession could potentially be another burden added to the stack, and if it went _wrong_ -

Oh, it’d be a disaster, an awkward lump of a moment sitting between them. And causing their sidekick inconvenience was the last thing a hero should do!

Kaito started, giving himself a small shake. He snorted. Where the hell had all this doubt come from? Sheesh, some of Shuichi’s hesitation must be rubbing off on him. Normally he’d just _go for it_ , tell the person, consequences be damned. If they liked him, cool, if not, fair enough; you couldn’t please everybody, and Kaito was no stranger to rejection. Perhaps it was the intensity of his feelings that had spawned this uncertainty; in that moment he realised that he _needed_ Shuichi like the Earth needed the Sun. But maybe the doubt had another source, one that was gradually poisoning the waterhole: the Killing Game. Man, that was a tangled web of a wildcard if ever there was one, overlaying everything like a complex set of rules for a board game, indiscriminately piling tension onto everything.

Out of nowhere, a familiar face popped into Kaito’s mind, framed with blonde hair. Oh. That was something else he’d forgotten; one other factor in the complex equation. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten per say, but it’d remained such a steady presence in the back of his mind that’d he’d stopped noticing it, like the sun. There was still a star’s light shining gently on all of them; the class bottled it, carried it with them even though the star itself was long gone. It shone on Shuichi most of all, sustaining the life on his metaphorical planet.

 _Kaede_.

Kaito figured he’d have to be some sort of idiot not to notice how she and Shuichi had gotten on together. To what extent, he didn’t really know, and there really hadn’t been time to figure it out. And hell if he was gonna _pry_ into that issue, especially not now, no way, no how. But whatever it’d been, it was more than likely that there would be dregs left over, and that Shuichi might not-

Might not…

Might not _want_ such attention. Might not be receptive to such a confession.

A sigh escaped Kaito, feeling like a fire that’d just been doused. This was… fine. It was fine! If that was how Shuichi felt, then he’d just have to respect his wishes! Besides, he was probably just overthinking things, _geez._ Still, a nebulous little part of Kaito’s mind continued to wonder, selfishly worrying away at that thought like a dog with a bone.

_Had they been together? Was there a chance for him?_

Oh hell, this was new, uncharted territory, which granted, did equate with _exciting_ , but in this case it also made Kaito want to crawl into a crater and scream.

Gah, this was getting him nowhere! With a furious burst of motion, Kaito waved at the air above him, as if he could dispel the thoughts hovering there. Then with a multi-layered rustling of covers, he flipped onto his side, burying himself in the blankets and duvet.

Lying there, in the dark and the silence, Kaito came to a decision. For now he would hold back. For now he would wait. Things were too precarious, and he cared too much about Shuichi to do otherwise.

In the meantime, he’d be the best damn hero to his sidekick that he could be.

\----------

Though his mind was filled with the æther and its slow, intricate dance, there was a plain fact relating to it that Kaito had forgotten. A basic, simple law, which governed many things within the universe. And it was so: something cannot orbit around _nothing_. There can never be an orbit of just one, a singular entity revolving around a single patch of empty space. To orbit something requires a partner, gravity and momentum working in tandem to keep the two bodies in that delicate balance. And to follow on from that, two bodies could not be in orbit without both somehow affecting the other, be it merely having a partner to view in the night sky, or more subtle changes, like lending power to the tides. So while Kaito was orbiting Shuichi, admiring and watching him from a distance that was so close and yet still so far, he in turn failed to notice that Shuichi was beginning to mirror him, and do something very similar. Qualities that Kaito didn’t pay any mind to, ones intrinsic to him, were suddenly viewed through the lens of another, and were found to be a source of positive admiration; his headstrong, passionate nature, his positive outlook, and his unwavering belief that everything would be all right in the end.

They say the devil’s in the details, and these were the details that Kaito missed.

 _I._ Kaito didn’t see the way Shuichi watched him when he wasn’t looking, fondness creasing the latter’s eyes, a soft smile rising to his lips.

 _II._ Kaito didn’t see the way Shuichi looked at his rough hands, as half-formed dreams of interlocking fingers slipped through his mind.

 _III._ Kaito didn’t see the way Shuichi’s eyes would accidentally stray to his clavicles and the portion of his chest peeking out there, prompting Shuichi to suddenly realise and tear his gaze away, as if he’d been caught doing something indecent.

 _IV._ And Kaito did not remember the dream shared between them, born of a gaudy, gold-plated key paid for in gambled coin; a dream of aviation and rivalries, his own face close to Shuichi’s, prompting a flustered frenzy of butterflies in the boy’s stomach.

No, Kaito did not catch any of this, and in doing so, remained blissfully oblivious to the event that was building.

\----------

The library wasn’t the greatest place to hang out when it came to, well, _hanging out_. Perhaps it was the room’s natural gloom that acted as a deterrent; it collected in corners and coated the ceiling, making the cluttered space seem that much more enclosed. Seriously, Kaito wondered, who the hell decided that it would be a good idea to put a library underground? Someone with no concept of ‘natural light’, apparently. There was also the smell to take into consideration; Kaito could never quite put a name or descriptive to it, the closest ones being ‘musty’ and ‘round’.

Adding on to that, maybe it was the location as well, tucked away underground in what felt like a tricky-to-reach place; far from other students, open spaces, and _safety._ Some part of Kaito hated that this was their life now; forced to take the Killing Game into consideration, weighing it up on the scales whenever they wanted to do something, or whenever a decision was made. But he did his best to bury that hatred under a wave of belief and positivity, drowning it thoroughly.

His gaze travelled upwards, to the top of the shelves.

But back on the topic of the library, there was also... _that_.

The remnants of Kaede’s death trap sat atop the shelves, a neat stacking of books that belied its true purpose. Whilst other evidence had been cleaned up and cleared away, going who-knows-where once a trial had concluded, Kaede’s trap… hadn’t. It’d remained there atop the shelves like a broken satellite in the stratosphere, now reduced to space debris, proof of a failed gambit. The blood had been cleaned up, Rantaro’s body was gone, and it was unlikely that the trap would ever be used again, but Kaito couldn’t bring himself to go near that spot where the books were at their nadir, where the shot put had fallen. Nor could anyone else, for that matter. Hell, for ages afterwards, lots of people didn’t even go near the shelves _altogether_ , filled with an irrational fear of death from above.

On instinct, Kaito’s gaze flicked to Shuichi. He was crouched a little way away, his head held in a thoughtful tilt as he scanned the shelves. It’d been his idea to come here, and Kaito had been more than willing to indulge him. His mouth softened into a smile. He would indulge Shuichi in so many ways, if only he was able to. Kaito wanted to do something grandiose for him, like steal the stars, except maybe not because that was an overdone sentiment. Besides, the stars were there for everyone’s enjoyment, and snatching them away seemed like a dickish thing to do. Plus, if the stars started disappearing then it’d cause no end of trouble for astronomers and space agencies all around the world, not to mention all the alien ones on different planets, too! So, yeah, bad idea. But oh, there were so many other things Kaito wanted to do instead; he wanted to wrap Shuichi in a nebula so that he shone with the light of newborn stars, and crown him in a spiral galaxy; he wanted to take him to the Eagle Nebula to see the Pillars of Creation – they might have been destroyed eons before, but fuck it, he was in love – so that they could admire them together, he wanted to carve Shuichi’s face into an asteroid, and name a whole host of heavenly bodies after him. Yeah, that last one might end up being confusing, but he would find a way to make it work, or his name wasn’t Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!

Kaito came out of his reverie on the topic of Things He Would Do For Shuichi In the Name Of Love to find the object of his affection watching him. Their eyes met; realising that, and with a soft “Ah!” Shuichi’s gaze flitted away. It wasn’t for the first time that day either, Kaito noted. In fact, the entire time they’d been there, he’d repeatedly caught Shuichi watching him out of the corner of his eye, his gaze darting about like hummingbirds around a flower bush. A thoughtful expression tugged at one side of Kaito’s lips. Before he’d just chalked it up to being in the crap-zone known as the Library, a place spooky enough to make anyone jumpy - especially given Shuichi’s history with the place - but now that he thought about it, something in his sidekick’s behaviour was decidedly... off.

Well, time to do something about that! A hero couldn’t exactly leave his sidekick in distress now, could he? Confidently striding across to Shuichi, Kaito dropped into a squat, bouncing slightly from the impact. An assortment of crime novels greeted him, spreading along the length of the shelf, all with covers in stark shades of red, black, white, and grey. Crime wasn’t really Kaito’s thing – give him a good adventure novel any day – but even he could tell that these books were the sort that featured less of cosy plots like bookshop owners solving mysteries with the help of their local ghost, and more of people being kidnapped by serial killers and having their body parts mailed to their relatives. No doubt Monokuma had had a plush, well-stuffed paw in this selection, probably hoping that they’d be used as ‘inspiration’. Man, fuck that guy, er, bear.

“Hey man, what's up?" Kaito asked, his voice a low, comforting burr. He nudged his knee against Shuichi’s in what he hoped was a friendly gesture.

For a split-second Shuichi stiffened, his face oddly pale. Then his cheeks flooded with two bright spots of colour. Oh? Inside his chest, Kaito’s heart stuttered and skipped a beat.

‘ _C’mon man, not now_ ,’ he privately chided himself. ‘ _Now’s not the time for that; Shuichi’s the focus here.’_

Watching from the corner of his eye, Shuichi appeared be wrestling with some internal conflict; he shrank a little into himself, drawing into his shell. But in the very next moment a change came over him, shell fragments dropping away and an iron core fortifying his spine. It was the same sort of stance and confidence that he had in a Class Trial. A flush of fondness came over Kaito, mixing with pride; ‘ _Yes!_ ’ he wanted to shout. _‘Yes, that’s it! You’ve come so far and you’re doing so well!’_

Shuichi stood, and looking up at him from this angle, a small note of perversion flitted briefly through Kaito’s brain. He brushed it away and rose, following Shuichi up.

“I...” Shuichi began. His nerve failed him, voice trailing away and eyes dropping to the floor. Then he looked up once more, the force of his gaze pinning Kaito to the spot, and began again. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah?” Kaito smiled in an encouraging manner, trying to ignore the sudden shower of shooting stars in his stomach. Truth be told, this wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting; he’d been anticipating some sort of personal problem maybe, but this? This felt like things were gracefully swinging towards something more intimate. The mood had suddenly changed, a fizzing sense of anticipation filling the air.

For a tense, heart-pounding moment, Shuichi’s eyes were darting everywhere but Kaito’s face, before finally coming to rest on him once more. Kaito couldn’t help but notice that his pupils were dilated, two tiny black holes devouring the galaxy of his grey-green irises. Like a true black hole, he couldn’t escape their pull; they were _mesmerising_. Space be damned, he wanted to stay in this single moment, mapping out the flecks and streaks in the mesh of Shuichi’s eyes.

“I like you, Kaito.”

Caught up in Shuichi’s eyes, the words drifted into Kaito’s ears without him really registering their meaning. Then they hit his brain with all the force of SELENE hitting the moon.

“What?” he inelegantly blurted out.

Realisation hit Kaito, and it was just in time to neatly coincide with the unmissable look of hurt crossing Shuichi’s face. Panic flooded Kaito; oh shit, oh fuck, he’d really fucked up and now Shuichi was trying to school his features into a neutral expression, but oh hell, the sight of that hurt expression and the fact that he was the one who’d caused it made Kaito want to fling himself into orbit.

Looking like a kicked puppy, Shuchi continued. “I said that I like you, but I understand if-”

“-Hey, no, no, I like you too!” Kaito butted in. He slung an arm around Shuichi’s shoulder, babbling furiously. “I’ve liked you for ages and ages, but I thought you might be uncomfortable so I didn’t say anything; you’re, you’re the best and there’ve been so many times when I’ve wanted to go for it and-” Oh geez, he had to rectify this situation and fast, there had to be something, anything he could do to make the validity of his message get through to Shuichi! Suddenly seized with a mad, wild impulse, Kaito bent down and kissed him on the cheek. It was a sudden starburst of sensations that sent a pleasant jolt through Kaito - his own stubble scraping again Shuichi’s cheek, _shit, he needed to shave_ , soft skin, Shuichi’s scent filling his nose – and then he was pulling away, the event over.

Cool. Now to see if he’d majorly fucked things up. Shuichi, for his part, looked mildly star-struck and at a complete loss for words. A blush was dusted across his cheeks; the sight of it made Kaito want to kiss him again.

“Look, ah, sorry I prolly should have asked to do that,” said Kaito, rambling a little. He rubbed the back of his head, feeling unnaturally sheepish.

For a moment Shuichi was silent. Then he gave himself a little shake and found his voice. “No, no, it’s fine. Though...” He rested one of his hands on one of Kaito’s – the one currently atop his shoulder. He turned to face Kaito, and in a single movement that Kaito would spend hours later puzzling over how it’d been done, brought both their hands down, somehow interlacing their fingers together in the process. A faint smile played around the corners of Shuichi’s lips. “I, ah, think you missed.”

Kaito’s brows briefly creased in confusion, then the meaning and intent behind Shuichi’s words hit him. The star within his chest swelled, expanding into a Red Supergiant, and light flooded his veins.

“Oh? If you say so, then maybe I did…” he murmured.

Kaito bent his head down to Shuichi’s, their noses bumping together. Their lips met, and Kaito heard the universe sing.

\----------

There was a set of jaws around Kaito’s throat, and no one knew it better than him. Sometimes they would snap shut with a great spasm, and he would choke, blood surging up his throat, his body rejecting it, _ejecting it_ through nose and mouth alike with enough force to spatter a wall. The fangs hadn’t always been present though, with their steadily-increasing grip, cuspids digging into the soft flesh of his neck, but still they remained, an unseen presence, ready to contaminate a perfectly good occasion with their touch.

But hell, if that wasn’t a mystery in itself; no matter how Kaito tried to remember that first fateful, _fatal_ moment when nausea must’ve overcome him, when he coughed and his hand must’ve come away contaminated with blood, nothing sprang to mind. There were only a couple of vague, flat memories, misting like the ion tail of a comet: doctor’s appointments with his grandparents where the room was filled with a sombre air, and _shit_ , had he not been paying attention or something? Kaito couldn’t remember anything that was said or done, aside from giving a blood sample and a random smattering of words like bullet points on a clipboard: “dead blood cells” and “overactive” and “tissue deterioration” and “survival rate”. It made him feel like a poorly pet dog; he knew he was sick, oh, how he _knew_ , the evidence lining his bones, his body decaying around him, but he didn’t know or understand _why_. And that was _bullshit!_ Why couldn’t he remember? Getting sick like this, really, properly Sick-with-a-capital-S was an event that carried a certain amount of magnitude, affecting everything around it, a star collapsing in on itself and transforming into a black hole, snatching up everything that surrounded it in an inescapable pull.

There should have been just plain more – more memories relating to the illness, more quiet discussions of choices and options and how it would be dealt with, more debate over medicine and expense, more defiance in the face of adversity, more, more, more! But the dusty memories of the doctor’s office remained the only sample of evidence, snatched from a passing meteoroid that was never to return.

Still, even if he had no idea of how it’d come about or of the circumstances surrounding it, Kaito was certain of one thing: he’d be damned if he’d let his sickness stop him from going to space. Even if he had to strap himself to the outside of a rocket, he would get there, or his name wasn’t Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!

Still the illness whispered, the fangs clattering around his throat: _Go ahead_ , they said in a sibilant hiss. _Go ahead and race off to space, but never forget that you carry a passenger. Never forget that We are Here._

 ---

Kaito woke to a sharp sense of disquiet coiling in his gut. His eyes flew open, but they might as well have remained shut; his room was pitch black, unnaturally still and as quiet as a star field in space. His heart thundered against his ribcage, and his whole body felt hot, hot, hot. Sweat beaded across Kaito’s forehead. _Something is wrong,_ said his body in a quiet, but firm tone. It was a message that felt threaded through his entire being, woven into his muscles, a seam running through the canals in his bones.

‘ _Poison?_ ’ he thought, disorientated.

No, of course not. With a bubbling groan Kaito clapped a hand to his torso, silently cursing the Killing Game for contaminating his mind with such a ridiculous suspicion. His stomach felt like it was riding high, rising up into his chest, volatile and agitated, angrily eyeing him through his oesophagus. Nausea bubbled up in his stomach, thick and hot, and in the next second a familiar metallic taste flooded Kaito’s mouth. Oh hell, he knew what this was, and it was happening again.

‘ _Toilet. Now,_ ’ was all he managed to think before he rocketed off his bed in a furious scramble.

His leg knocked against an odd weight atop the covers, but he thought little of it as he stumbled across the room in a series of tripping motions. He’d probably just dumped his jacket on the duvet, _again_. Kaito didn’t so much open the bathroom door as he did smash through it, balance shot, bare feet slipping on the tiles as he blundered across the bathroom floor to where he guessed the toilet was. His stomach gurgled queasily and _oh shit oh fuck here it comes-_

Collapsing to his knees, the cold floor a shock despite the fabric of his trousers-

Swinging his head over the toilet bowl in an arcing motion and-

Kaito coughed, a hot rush of blood erupting out, the familiar sensation of razorblades running up his throat. Again and again his body shuddered and spasmed as the coughing fit seized him, his stomach feeling like it was tuning inside out, his throat steadily growing raw. He wheezed and choked, blood going down the wrong way only to be coughed back up the next second; he gripped the cold porcelain in a death grip, retching over and over. There was no room for anything else but coughing and vomiting, in that instance the universe shrank to just him and the bloodied toilet basin.

But slowly, gradually, the coughing subsided. The amount of blood lessened. And finally the episode petered out altogether. Exhausted, Kaito slumped against the toilet, his body curving over it. Blood and saliva dripped down his chin in equal measures.

“Dammit,” he growled. Then louder: “ _Dammit!_ ”

Arms trembling, he pushed himself up and flushed the toilet; pink streaks swirled in a whirlpool before being sucked away. By that point his eyes had thankfully adjusted enough to see the world in shades of black and grey, and it was the only point of solace in unpleasant episode. On shaky, unsteady feet, Kaito stumbled over to sink. How- how _the fuck_ was he going to go to space when his body was pulling this shit? He glared at his shadowy reflection in the mirror. Ugh, he felt disgusting. Kaito rinsed out his mouth a few times, trying to banish the metallic taste, before giving his hands and face a quick wash for good measure too. He glowered at himself once more in the mirror, hands clutching the sides of the sink.

“You’re going to go to space,” he commanded through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna make it. Chin up! You’re Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!”

“Kaito?” came a soft voice from the doorway.

Kaito shrieked, leaping half a foot into the air. He whirled around on his heel, and clapped eyes upon-

“-Shuichi! Oh!” He laughed, but the sound came out unexpectedly nervous, jangling up and down. “Wh-what’s up, bro?”

Oh hell, in his mixture of haste and disorientation and _vomiting_ he’d forgotten that Shuichi was there in his room.

\---

_Earlier…_

Training that evening had been good. Nah, fuck that, it’d been great! Despite the fatigue burning in his muscles, Kaito practically bounded along, feeling energised with every step. It’d been so long since he’d felt well enough to just go for it, to stretch out his body and move around, pushing it to the limit as he worked up a healthy sweat. Now that was a true man’s passion! Speaking of a man’s passion...

“Kaito, slow down!” came Shuichi’s strained voice from somewhere behind him. He stumbled into view with a couple of half-staggered steps. “Seriously, who has this much energy after a workout?”

Kaito laughed loudly, the sound bursting from his chest. “C’mon Shuichi, the universe is calling! How could I not be energised?!”

“Probably because you stopped half-way through the sit-ups?” said Maki, flatly.

Kaito stopped, placing a hand to his chest in faux-injury. “Oh, Maki Roll, please! I was training my mind! Mental fortitude is important for an astronaut!”

Maki simply shook her head and sighed, long ponytails swaying from the motion. Unlike Kaito and Shuichi, who definitely looked like they’d been performing some strenuous task, she looked pristine. Ready for action, even, as if she was just about to head on out to some private mission. It was unsurprising, given her profession and history.

“Really,” Shuichi panted, bending over with his hands on his knees. “Mental fortitude.”

“You too, Shuichi?” said Kaito, sounding injured. The next second a mischievous gleam entered his eye. “Well, if you don’t believe me, then lemme show you how strong I am!”

Kaito lunged at Shuichi, scooping him up in his arms bridal-style in a single, smooth motion.

“Wha- hey!”

Almost immediately Kaito’s muscles began to protest with a dull, straining ache best interpreted as a long, repeating string of the letter ‘a’. So he might have forgotten just how heavy a human body was. Still, his boyfriend was in his arms, so no going back now!

“And this is supposed to prove what, exactly?” asked Maki. Still, there was the faintest trace of amusement in her eyes.

“That I’m strong! See ya later, Maki Roll!” Gritting his teeth in a rictus grin, Kaito smiled down at Shuichi. “Ready bro? Here we go!”

“Kaito, no-“

With his arms locked around Shuichi and feeling the exertion in his legs, Kaito took off at a run towards the dorms.

\---

Unfortunately, it was not a triumphant Kaito who kicked open the door to his room and deposited both him and Shuichi on the bed. Instead it was an exhausted, sweat-soaked Kaito who ungracefully rammed into the door handle like a battering ram until it gave enough to open, subsequently overbalanced and all but fell through the doorway, and somehow managed to kick the door shut before collapsing on the bed, half-crushing Shuichi in the process.

“Very impressive,” said Shuichi, once he’d managed to extricate himself from underneath a face-down Kaito.

“Ffnks,” mumbled Kaito, his nose pressing into the duvet. Exhaustion settled upon him like a blanket. Oh hell, why had he decided that it was a good idea to carry Shuichi? And to run with him, no less?

“Really though, your room?”

With what felt like a gargantuan effort, Kaito lifted his head. “What? It was nearer.”

“Kaito, it’s up the stairs! What part of that is ‘nearer’?” said Shuichi, gesturing openly at the door.

There was a beat of silence as Kaito considered that, eyes drifting up in thought. Yeah, his room was up the stairs but Shuichi’s... was right next to the door on the ground floor, a fact that he’d somehow forgotten in the heat of the moment. Oh. He’d fucked his legs up for nothing. With a strangled groan of defeat, Kaito let his head flop back down onto the bed.

“Too bad we had to run into Kokichi and Miu; I’m certain they’ll be laughing about this for the next few days,” said Shuichi.

With a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like “fffk em”, Kaito wearily raised one hand, flipping off the ceiling. It prompted a small snort of amusement from Shuichi.

Presently there came the soft sensation of fingers stroking through his hair. A soft murmur escaped from Kaito’s throat as he leaned into the touch; tilting his head upward, he peeked up at Shuichi.

‘Man, I’d give you the moon,’ he thought.

Above him, Shuichi’s face creased into a soft smile. “Even though it’d affect the tides? That’s sweet of you.”

Wait, what? Did he say that out loud? Evidentially so, since Shuichi had responded, unless he’d suddenly become a mind reader in the past two minutes. Unlikely. With a push, Kaito hefted himself up then flopped onto Shuichi, wrapping him in an equally floppy-limbed hug. Ah, this was nice. Shuichi was warm, and Kaito could feel the boy’s body relaxing against his own as he in turn returned the hug. Shuichi’s scent filled his nose, and Kaito felt like he could easily fall asleep in that position.

“Yeah,” he mumbled into Shuichi’s ear. To hell with it, he was continuing the soft theme. “You heard me right. I’d give you the moon, Luna, and every other moon in this solar system: Deimos, Phobos, Io, Euanthe, Hyperion, Oberon, Umbriel, Sao, Thalassa, Namaka, Nix, S/2003 J12, S/2006 S1-“

“Woah, hold on, what? Aren’t you just rattling off numbers now?” Shuichi laughed incredulously, and Kaito felt the buzz of his voice against his skin.

“What, how dare you insult the moons of Jupiter and Saturn this way!? Even if they are considered lost,” he added quietly. “But I’ll find ‘em!”

“Aha, if you say so. How many moons are there, anyway?” asked Shuichi. He nuzzled into Kaito’s neck, half-burying his face there. A sleepy, comfortable air filled the room. Without realising it, their voices had dropped to a murmur, even though there was no one around to be disturbed.

“One-hundred and eighty-one,” he replied, without missing a beat. “C’mon, I’ve told you a space fact, now tell me a detective fact.”

“Ah, well...” Shuichi fell quiet, lost in thought. “The first private detective agency was founded in France, in 1833. How’s that?”

“Aww, what? That’s cool I guess,” Kaito huffed, “but I was expecting something more along the lines of, y’know, science-y stuff! Like that glowing goo they use at crime scenes!”

“What, Luminol?”

Kaito nodded. “Yeah! What’s that made of?”

Shuichi made a small noise, and Kaito would bet every Monocoin he had that had his hands been free, Shuichi would have tapped one against his chin thoughtfully. “Mmm, it’s ah, let’s see, oxygen, hydrogen, erm, nitrogen and carbon. And it’s not a ‘goo’, it’s a powder. It works by reacting to haemoglobins in the blood.”

Pride lit within Kaito’s chest. With a contented sigh he kissed Shuichi’s cheek. “That’s my sidekick,” he murmured. “You’re so clever.”

He was rewarded with seeing Shuichi turn a most charming shade of pink, stammering slightly.

“Ah, it’s, erm, not that great. B-besides, you know a lot about outer space!” he countered.

“That may be, but you’re the one who figures all the shit out in trials.” Kaito winked.

He moved to kiss Shuichi, and this, oh, this was something he would never grow tired of: their mouths moving together, the scrape of tongue on teeth, little sounds escaping into the night air. Shuichi was winding his hands in Kaito’s jacket, their bodies pressed flush against one another as they kissed slowly, sleepily. At one point Shuichi leaned into him, and Kaito let himself topple backwards, the bed underneath cushioning him below, Shuichi’s weight pressing into him above.

At some point, Kaito wasn’t quite sure when, the kissing petered out, their fatigue gently persuading them to stop. Instead they simply lay there in a mild doze, Shuichi’s head cushioned on Kaito’s chest.

Kaito didn’t know how long they stayed like that, and frankly he didn’t have the will to think about it; his mind had shut off, too focused on Shuichi to process anything else. But after a while a certain discomfort made itself known. In short: he had to go to the bathroom. Kaito really didn’t want to get up, especially since the bed was so soft and inviting, his body having formed a warm dent in it, with Shuichi having made himself comfortable atop him. But unfortunately the laws of biology won out, making a compelling argument in the form of ‘Holy shit just go already’.

“Shu?” Kaito muttered.

“Mhm?” Shuichi didn’t even look up, simply making a quiet little sound.

“I gotta get up. I’ll be back in a mo.”

“Mhm.”

Disentangling himself from Shuichi, Kaito lazily rose from the bed and headed to the bathroom. Emerging a moment later, he was greeted with the sight of Shuichi, half-curled up on the bed and snoring softly. Kaito had to admit that it was kinda, well, cute. No, scratch that, it was adorable. It did make actually sleeping under the covers rather difficult, but Kaito shrugged to himself. They’d almost dropped off atop the covers before now. It was worth it, and besides, at the end of the day, a bed was a bed, no matter how you slept on it.

Planting himself so that he was almost nose-to-nose with Shuichi, Kaito soon drifted off.

\---

Now, hours later, here they were: framed in the darkness, concern written into every fibre of Shuichi’s frame, and a fizzing panic bubbling away in Kaito’s gut that made him tense up. Kaito surged forward with such an intensity that it made his head spin. Surprised, Shuichi automatically stepped back, and Kaito filled the doorway; he felt like the Chicxulub impactor, immovable, imposing, a dark secret hiding in his wake. His intent was clear: _Shuichi must not get in, Shuichi must not see._

Shuichi was speaking.

“Kaito, what’s wrong? I heard retching.” His voice was a wellspring of earnest concern that drilled into Kaito’s heart.

Trying to affect a nonchalant affair, Kaito ran a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“ _Kaito.”_ Shuichi folded his arms, sounding sceptical. “I know what I heard.”

Fuck.

“I think I probably ate something funny at dinner, y’know? Monokuma and the Monokubs prolly know shit about proper food hygiene and storage.” Internally, a small version of Kaito cheered at the lie – _food poisoning, the perfect cover!_ \- though it didn’t stop him from feeling shitty about lying.

“But we both had the same thing, the katsudon, remember?” said Shuichi, ever persistent.

Neptune dropped into Kaito’s stomach at those words, sitting there cold and heavy. Shit, that’s right, they’d both had the katsudon at dinner. His mind scrambled for another lie, skittering across ice.

“Yeah, well, mine tasted funny. I didn’t say anything, but...” He let his sentence trail off, a satellite escaping from orbit to trundle away into the eternal abyss, open to any conclusion that could be slotted in. Still, Shuichi didn’t look convinced. “C’mon man, really, it’s fine,” Kaito insisted, hoping that there wasn’t any blood on his teeth or his shirt. He leaned against the doorframe, one arm propped against it, trying to simultaneously block both the doorway and Shuichi’s view of the toilet. Crap, paranoia was making him antsy; as if Shuichi could see into the pink-stained basin from _here_.

And ohhh, Shuichi was looking at him with _that_ expression, one Kaito had come to refer to as ‘ _filing’_. It was one he’d seen many times during the Class Trials, when Shuichi didn’t quite believe something, but didn’t have the evidence to back up a claim or contradiction; or when a stray piece of evidence was floating around that couldn’t quite be explained yet. In those instances Shuichi would neatly tuck the discrepancy and/or evidence away in a corner of his mind, ready to be drawn out later, usually to devastating effect. Kaito smiled in what he hoped was a disarming way, still praying that there were no flecks of blood on his teeth.

After a drawn-out pause in which several stars were born and died, Shuichi spoke.

“All right, Kaito, I believe you.” His voice was soft, but Kaito could swear that he almost sounded mildly resigned. “Is there anything you need? Some water, or ginger? The warehouse might have some medicine in it.”

Kaito shook his head, though it was more of a spasm than anything else. “Nah, nah, I’ll be fine. Just go back to your room and let me rest, yeah? Don’t want you to catch anything!” he added and immediately blanched internally. Why had he said that? Oh hell, they’d been kissing earlier, a fact that they both knew all too well, and both knew that it was far too late to be worrying about cross-contamination.

The filing expression briefly passed across Shuichi’s face once more, but to his credit he merely nodded, and headed for the door. Quietly, Kaito breathed a sigh of relief, and followed.

Just as he was about to exit, Shuichi paused, one hand on the door handle.

“Kaito, if there’s anything you ever want to talk or about, or need to say… You do know you can tell me and I’ll listen, right?”

“Yeah, of course!” Kaito flashed him another smile, false cheeriness injected into every syllable.

Carrying an air of finality, the door shut with a soft click. Kaito felt his smile drop away into the abyss.

“Sorry, Shuichi,” he whispered as he wandered back over his bed.

He collapsed onto it, not caring about the state of his clothes or potentially staining the sheets with blood.

Truth was a fluttering butterfly clenched between his teeth; no matter how it tickled, he would never release it into the world.

\----------

And then everything had gone spectacularly wrong.

It was hard to pinpoint where, exactly. Maybe it was when they all accepted Miu’s badgering invitation and stepped into the Virtual World. Or maybe it was when the Class Trial started up with all the pieces jumbled about. Or maybe it was further back, when the Killing Game first began; maybe it’d all been fucked from the beginning.

Or maybe it was when the explosive bolts that attached Kaito to Shuichi, booster rocket to shuttle, began to detonate.

During that fourth trial Kaito had vouched for Gonta, really believing in him with all his heart and soul. He burned brightly on Gonta’s behalf, fighting harder than he’d ever done before, filled with a conviction that any moment there would come some shining revelation that would turn things around: a piece of evidence slotting properly into a new place where it truly belonged, or a new piece of testimony from someone, anyone! Something that would ascertain and reinforce Gonta’s innocence, putting him in the clear. Belief was Kaito’s sword and shield, stalwart and unfailing; it had not let him down yet.

But as the trial progressed, a difficult, exhausting slog, things had only deteriorated. Slowly, methodically, Shuichi had chipped away all the matrix surrounding and obscuring the events to reveal the truth beneath. And for some fucking awful reason, all the pieces of evidence, and by extension, all the fingers, were pointing firmly at Gonta.

They were all wrong, everyone must be, had to be wrong! Even Shuichi, much as that pained Kaito to admit it. Still, when a sidekick dropped the slack, it was a hero’s job to pick it up and fix things. Gritting his teeth, Kaito knew that if simply fought harder, if he could just show them all how _ridiculous_ it all was, then they’d see that their assertions about Gonta being the culprit were wrong, that it was nothing more than Kokichi making them reel like a set of tops to save his own hide.

Because of course, the _fucking awful reason_ behind the fingers pointing at Gonta had turned out to be Kokichi.

Fuck, he was always an enigmatic pain in the ass, spinning on his own axis, but damn, if he didn’t make Kaito’s blood boil during that trial; constantly cutting in and jabbing him with sharp little jibes, sneering, laughing, and shedding fake tears, flip flopping all over the board, the human personification of smoke and mirrors. He was like a cat reclining on a high wall, dangling his tail down in order to deliberately agitate Kaito, the dog whose chain was just too short to reach, below. Afterwards, with the benefit of hindsight – and oh, how he had time for that in the hours he lay awake - loathe as Kaito was to admit it, somewhere along the way it’d become less about fighting over the truth, and more about them fighting over Shuichi. For there is always more going on in a conversation that the words that are being said; layers upon layers of meanings lie hidden beneath.

And after all the blood, sweat, and tears, Kaito had been wrong.

He’d fought against Shuichi.

And had been wrong.

Gonta had been rightfully executed.

And Kaito was left standing amid the shattered remains of more than his pride.

\---

The explosive bolts connecting Shuichi and Kaito had detonated, but some element had caused the event to fail; perhaps they had detonated too soon, or perhaps Kaito had underestimated how much he in turn had come to rely on Shuichi. Either way the damage was done, the pair of them coasting along, each bearing parts ripped out from the other where they’d disconnected. The formerly easy air between them had fractured, transforming into a seemingly impassable field of asteroids. In the days that followed, a potent mixture of shame, embarrassment, and his own injured pride kept Kaito from Shuichi. He’d backed Gonta, and had almost gotten everyone killed because of it. Secretly, deeply Kaito wanted nothing more than to fall into Shuichi’s arms and simply be held as he poured his heart out – _sorry sorry sorry sorry, you were right and I was wrong and it hurts_ – taking in the boy’s familiar smell and warmth. But he couldn’t. He could no more cross the asteroid field between them than he could leap up and snatch the moon.

Instead he tried to press on, to continue living in what passed for ‘normal’ in the Killing Game. And for the steadily-dwindling amount of people trapped in its clutches, that meant another escape plan.

Time was running out.

\---

In the end, salvation for Kaito and Shuichi’s relationship came in the form of a small, square bathroom window. In that moment, peering out at Shuichi’s concerned face, despite the sickness steadily sapping his strength, despite the fact that Kokichi was skulking around somewhere concocting fuck-knows-what in his poisonous skull, and hell, despite the fact that the Earth was destroyed, Kaito felt renewed. It was like peering out of an airlock, and seeing Earth from above for the first time, draped in the Northern Lights and haloed by the sun. It would have been trivial to say that it was like Gonta’s trial never happened, because it had, and things had changed as a result. But here they were now, having survived through a geomagnetic storm, into the calmer period beyond. They’d both become stronger as a result, even though Kaito knew that was an oxymoron wrapped in a lie for him, his body slowly breaking up under atmospheric pressure.

Kaito listened, rejuvenation filling his bones, as Shuichi spoke in soft, hushed tones of an escape plan, of Maki rousing everyone, of Shuichi’s own scouting efforts. Pride and concern mixed within Kaito in equal measures, pride for Shuichi’s efforts, concern that he’d be caught, but both were dwarfed by love, shining like Sirius.

Still, it was only a matter of time before Gonta came up in their hurried conversation, and Kaito could see Shuichi building towards it. And here it came:

“And hey, Kaito… About what happened with Gonta-“ Shuichi began.

“Shuichi, I leave the rest to you.” With those words, Kaito felt himself handing over the metaphorical reins. He felt the explosive bolts detonate once more, but this time it was smooth, seamless, the procedure going as intended.

It felt like forgiveness.

It felt like absolution.

In that hopeful moment, a transformation occurred. They were no longer shuttle and booster rocket, but Twin Spica, a binary star shining together in the night sky.

Finally, the conversation drew to a close.

“I believe in you. So I’m leaving the rest of it to you for now. You got it, Shuichi?” said Kaito. In that moment it suddenly felt important to give Shuichi a final boost. That way, if things went south – not that they would, but _just in case_ – their final interaction would be positive.

“Yes, I understand,” said Shuichi, his voice a half-whisper in the gloom.

“Alright, now get going before Kokichi comes back!”

“You’re right; see you tomorrow, Kaito.” With those words, Shuichi smiled and left.

Kaito watched as his silhouette was slowly subsumed by the darkness, but before it could be swallowed up entirely, Shuichi ducked around a corner, disappearing completely from sight.

Kaito smiled to himself and sank against the wall.

Things were gonna be okay, and he knew it for a fact; he knew it like the sun was a star, he knew it like the axial tilt of Uranus was 98 degrees. It was an indisputable confidence, one that came from deep within his bones, a reassurance so strong that it left was no room for doubt. He would escape from the tiny prison of a bathroom, and take it from there. They would defeat Kokichi, the Mastermind, and escape this fucked-up Killing Game once and for all. He would get to space.

Things were gonna be okay.

_\----------_

_How did things get this way?_

As he lay under the press, the solid sheet of metal slowly rumbling towards him, Kaito found himself wondering that for what must’ve been the umpteenth time that hour. It ran through his head in a constant little stream, a question with no clear answer that popped up over and over again, and could never be truly banished.

Even with his coat acting as a blanket, cocooning him, Kaito felt the slab of cold metal underneath his back; it added to the terror and discomfort of the whole situation. His arm ached, waves of pain throbbing in time to the beat of his heart. Being shot by a crossbow fucking _hurt_ , who knew? Oh, but better that it turn out this way than have Maki be made the blackened. Kaito would rather be flung into the sun than let that happen.

The hydraulic press moved with a slow, implacable air, creaking and groaning like the voice of death itself, and every inch of Kaito’s instincts sang at him to _run, run! Get out, get out! Before it’s too late!_ Through some mighty effort, he forced himself to remain still, one arm flopping out so that it was clearly on view for the camera. His anxiety spiking, for one moment Kaito found himself doubting that Kokichi would actually stop the machine, and would instead let Kaito be crushed as part of some unseen gambit.

_How did things get this way?_

Suddenly, with a whirr, a clunk, and whole host of tiny multi-part mechanical sounds all overlapping one another, the press shuddered to a stop. The air left Kaito’s body in a great rush, a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. Careful as not to disturb his coat, he slid out from between the two plates.

Unsteady as a newborn duckling, Kokichi wobbled down the stairs, clinging onto the handrail in a death grip. His face was as white as the mismatch of a coat he wore, covered in a sheen of sweat, with dark circles ringing his eyes. Acutely aware of the puncture hole in his forearm, Kaito could only guess how Kokichi must be feeling; he’d been shot twice with the damn bolts. Upon Kokichi reaching the bottom of the stairs, Kaito silently slung an arm around him, helping bear his weight. Kokichi said nothing, and simply let himself be helped. Perhaps it was a measure of how grim the situation was, or of how tired they both were that neither of them had the will to spit their normal slew of acerbic words, volleyed at one another. They cut a slow, limping path across the floor and Kaito found each step heavier than the last. Finally the hydraulic press loomed before them, in all its mechanical glory. There was no word of thanks from Kokichi, nor any final insult or affront. He merely unhooked himself from Kaito, and immediately slumped against the machinery. Automatically, Kaito turned to head to the controls. The sooner this was over with, the better. As he reached the stairs, Kokichi’s voice rang out. It echoed in the warehouse’s expanse.

“He was so loyal to boring old you, how disappointing.” Kokichi sounded disheartened.

“What?” Kaito choked out, half-turning back to Kokichi. Who did he mean, Shuichi? It had to be, there was no one else it could’ve been. Though the boy sounded disappointed, Kaito was loathe to believe that those were his true feelings.

But Kokichi merely waved him away with a dismissive, _get on with it_ gesture.

Feeling like both the executioner and the condemned, Kaito slowly ascended the steps. He gripped the railing in his own death grip, leaning on it heavily; how the hell Kokichi had managed to climb these in his state, he had no idea.

After what felt like a lifetime, Kaito reached the top.

He set the camera rolling.

And let the press close.

_How did things get this way?_

_\----------_

It was a relief when it was all over; when the Class Trial had run its course, when Shuichi had found the truth and Kaito had finally been able to emerge from the Exisal like an astronaut stepping out from his craft upon returning to Earth. Even the threat of his “Punishment” did little to hamper Kaito’s sense of relief; he was dying, so who gave a fuck if Monokuma decided to wave pom-poms and dress it up in some macabre finish?

Shuichi had grown; he’d reached the point where he could fly under his own power. Maki as well, she had grown splendidly. Oh, Kaito’s eye had slowly been drawn to her, too. Maki, who’d presented herself as so cold and closed off, wearing the word ‘assassin’ like a wall. Seeing her open up, like a satellite’s solar panels slowly turning towards the sun, had been marvellous. Perhaps in another life, the three of them could have been happy together: him, Shuichi, and Maki. They would have been Orion’s Belt, and like the old song said: _three little stars, brightly shining forth_.

Heh. Another life.

In this life, it was time for the booster rocket to drop away.

\---

In a way Kaito found it was a relief that his body was choosing to burn out at that moment, enclosed within furiously juddering metal; he felt so fantastically shit, coughing and coughing and coughing, that it was hard to concentrate on the execution. It was still fucking horrible of course, the walls rattling around him, one moment creaking with a deep-sea pressure, then next burning white-hot like a furnace, intense forces trying to tear him apart.

In a distant corner of his mind which wasn’t taken up with ‘ _Sick sick sick sick_ ’, Kaito felt incredibly grateful for the high-g training he’d done, for the times he’d been spun around in a centrifuge, his vision greying out and shrinking to a tunnel.  Had anyone else been subjected to this, they probably would’ve fallen to G-LOC by now. Dimly he tried to run through AGSM - breath, toes calves quads abs, _pull_ – trying to fight against the g-forces attacking him, but his body was too weak to respond. Again and again he tried between fits of coughing, his chest feeling like it’d been lacerated, his throat feeling like it was being torn apart, but it was to no avail.

Silence suddenly filled the cabin, along with a stillness that Kaito had only ever felt in his dreams. He peered out of the tiny, scratched window and saw-

Outer space, stretching out around him in every direction; stars speckling that great, inky expanse; an asteroid rumbling silently by on a journey to another galaxy; brightly-coloured nebulas, billowing and glowing with an ethereal quality; distant galaxies looking like a swirl of icing sugar; an arm of the milky way cutting a pale, cloudy path across the scene; Mars and Jupiter and Saturn and Uranus and Neptune and Pluto trailing away into the distance, a path to the cosmos; the asteroid belt winding around the orbits of Mars, Earth, Venus, and Mercury, acting like a picket fence – _beyond here be wonders_ ; a herd of shooting stars falling, each with a long wisp of a tail, sometimes two; wonders and marvels that existed only outside the bubble of Earth.

He’d made it.

A final coughing fit seized Katio, great clots of blood forcing their way out, his body haemorrhaging for the final time.

But filled with the majesty and expanse of space, he found that he didn’t mind. He didn’t have to hold on anymore.

Quietly, gently, Kaito Momota sank into starlight.

\---

 _Thou little sparkling star of even,_  
_Thou gem upon an azure Heaven,_  
_How swiftly will I soar to thee,_  
_When this imprisoned soul is free!_

_- **“To a Star” – Davidson, Lucretia Maria**_

**Author's Note:**

> AN: HOO HOO HOO I FINSHED NDRV3 AND BOY SAIMOTA’S MY OTP
> 
> Also is it me or was NDRV3 really… long? Like, when I finished the story, I’d clocked in 43 hours, as opposed to DR1 which took me about 23-25, and DR2 which took me about, ach, I can’t remember, like 30 or so. I dunno why, but Chapter 4’s trial in particular felt like it lasted forever and by the end of it I was just like “holy cats thank goodness that’s over”. Maybe it was just long because I played a lot of Salmon Fishing ahahahaha
> 
> Before we end, a couple of **notes** :  
> In palaeontology, ‘matrix’ is a term for the rock surrounding a fossil e.g. “the matrix has been undermined by quartz”, but also I couldn’t resist the double-pun with the film series lol  
>  **AGSM:** Anti-G Straining Manoeuver – A manoeuvre typically done by fighter pilots to help prevent G-LOC. I, er, don’t know if it’s applicable to astronauts, but I included it here anyway. Reference came from [here](http://allthingsaero.com/military-aviation/us-navy/video-anti-g-straining-maneuver-technique-only).  
>  **BECO:** Booster Engine Cut-Off – The point in a launch where a booster rocket has expended its fuel and drops back to Earth.  
>  **G-LOC:** G-force induced loss of consciousness - basically when you conk out from extreme G-forces  
>  Thanks for reading!


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